


i'm in love with your honor

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Jealous!Bucky, M/M, Pining, bucky is bad with feelings, clint is done with all the pining, lots of gross pining, natasha is bad ass, oh so gross, they go off to college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:36:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7439605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That secret that we know<br/>That we don't know how to tell<br/>I'm in love with your honor<br/>I'm in love with your cheeks..."</p><p>-Blood Bank (Bon Iver)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Polar Opposites

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh i began writing this in early june?? i think i started this right before finals which was a horrible idea. anyways, i'd really like to thank my beta reader, tanya, who is not on this site. out of the goodness in her heart, she said she would read my story for me. she didn't get frustrated by my lack of adequate dashes or give up on me. she actually read the whole story (6,000+ words and counting) and didn't complain about the length. i love her so much oh man oh geez.

Set in a world where they both have an infinite amount of time, but they're just too dumb to get their heads outta their asses. It drives Bucky insane.

...

James “Bucky” Barnes is a civil engineer, he works with people, with the environment, with machines, with mechanical stuff. He likes numbers, actually. He's good with them. He’s always got a plan and he never does anything without thinking about it over at least three cups of coffee.

Steve Rogers is an artist, certified with a bachelor's degree in fine arts. He's good with his hands and with a paintbrush. He doesn't have a linear mind and he's impulsive. 

Bucky and Steve don't match, at all. They are polar opposites, at best. 

Bucky likes working early in the morning, grinding through numbers and data sheets and meeting people for morning coffee talks . He enjoys being early, being punctual and clean cut. It’s quite funny to Steve. Steve doesn't wake up till the sun is already high in the sky, and he doesn't sleep until the moon makes the hills it's grave. 

…

Steve grew up with polite manners. He was a real gentleman, even at the age of 6. Bucky was a nightmare of a child. He was so much of a hassle that his parents were perpetually mad at him. He spent many nights at Steve's house, hiding from his parents. 

They turned out to be different. But the bond was still there. When Bucky grew out of his reckless phase, Steve began his own. Except, his was less… foolish. 

…

Steve took to art like fire to gasoline. Steve immersed himself in watercolor, oil paints, ink, and graphite. He sketched whenever and wherever he could. He burned through sketchbooks, filling up one every month. He got a job at the age of 16 working the art supplies store down the street. He fetched a pretty sum for it, too, and he. He usually used his money to buy even more art supplies. He spent hours perfecting his craft, he stayed up till the sun rose and drew pale shadows and fuzzy highlights on Steve’s face. Bucky got out of bed most mornings at Steve’s house to find him slumped over a sketchbook, a pencil strewn carelessly across the floor. 

Sometimes Steve sketched his room. Sometimes he sketched Brooklyn’s skyline (only when Bucky would drive him up to the top of their hill and sit with him, talking nonsense). Most of the time, though, he sketched Bucky.  
...

As they grew older, Steve got colorful. Literally. He began dying his hair, taking advantage of the pale, golden hair he was born with. His mother had shrieked at him when he and Bucky came home after Steve had let Bucky dye his hair for him. It was a light lilac and made Steve look soft around the edges. 

Lilac faded to silver, which turned into a dark blue that made Steve's eyes glisten like the constellations. Dark blue faded to teal. One time, Steve tried dying his hair black like Bucky. He quickly regretted it, complaining to Bucky, “I look like you. I look like a tiny boy.”

Bucky didn't mind. He liked it when Steve would spend hours in the bathroom, calling for Bucky to come over to get to the spot on the back of his head that his thin, short arms couldn't reach and his horrible eyesight wouldn't let him see. He liked it when Steve would wrap his head in a plastic bag, waiting for the dye to set in, patiently. They'd have a laugh. 

“I look funny,” Steve would giggle. Bucky would smile fondly back. He'd make a joke about Steve being from a broken future, the plastic bag being a brainwashing device. 

Sometimes—only sometimes—Bucky and Steve would have real conversations. They'd save the school stuff for later and climb up to the top of Bucky’s roof and lie there, backs pressed against the warm roof and noses pointed towards the sky. Sometimes they’d sit up there during the sweltering hot Brooklyn summer nights. Sometimes Steve dragged him up there when it was snowing. He let Bucky scold him but it was a good place to escape from reality. They'd talk about life, love, theories, and Steve would ramble about art. These small conversations weren't meant for Bucky’s quips or sass. These were real conversations and Bucky held onto them so tight that it matched the tugs in Bucky’s heart when he watched Steve ramble at the moon. 

…

Bucky got into college. He got into multiple colleges. His major was new and on the rise, many colleges were looking for prospects in the field of engineering. Steve got into college. Not the same ones as Bucky got into, but he got into a college. 

Four years of separation from his best friend was hard. Especially when Steve was five states away and had somehow put his life under control. Bucky was torn. God, he missed Steve so much. Slowly, he willed himself to forget. He felt overpowering, like a burden, whenever he would call Steve. He’d hear people talking behind Steve’s voice. He’d hear giggles, and his blood would run cold.

…

“Hey, Buck! What’s up?” Steve answers. Bucky sighs, all the air rushing out through his lungs.

“Hey, Stevie. Just checkin’ in on you. How’s art goin’?”

“Oh, it’s goin’ real well, Buck. I made this mural yesterday… 10 feet tall and 18 feet wide! It was huge, Buck. I know you would’ve liked it…” Steve trails off, getting consumed in his art again. Bucky smiles at the tone of Steve’s voice as he describes the colors, the shapes, the ideas going on in his brain. They talk for some time. Just like they always do. But then—

“Oh, and Buck?” Steve abruptly says. 

“Yeah?”

“I met someone. She’s real nice. Think you’d like her, too,” Steve says, his voice an octave lower to insinuate his seriousness. Bucky’s breath catches in the back of his throat.

“Hold on, Steve,” Bucky says rushedly, crumpling up some of his school papers and making his way to the bathroom, “I gotta go, sorry… someone’s here.” He hangs up, Steve’s questioning voice dangling on the other end. He barely makes it to the bathroom before his breath quickens and his lungs feel like all the air has vanished from the Earth.

“Oh god,” Bucky mutters between heavy breaths. His back is against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms closing him in.

“You are fucked,” he breathes to himself softly. He's in love with Steve. He's in love with Steve. 

“Don't you know I love you?” he says. It’s a whisper, really, but it screams everywhere.

…

It’s not that Bucky can’t make friends. He has lots of friends. He goes to parties every other night while maintaining his grades (miraculously). He’s had lots of girls to kiss and even some boys. He has a regular group he gets dinner with, he has friends he smokes with, he’s got people on speed dial to party with. He’s got so many friends. But, at the same time, none at all. He feels so lonely

When Steve told Bucky he met someone, something in Bucky broke. Cliche, he knows. He’s just never felt anything like it, especially not from Steve.

…

Sometimes Steve would call him late at night. Bucky would watch his phone buzz madly, the goofy picture of Steve illuminating the whole room. Bucky would never answer. On the occasion he did, he'd say hello and make small talk before saying some shit excuse about going to class. He distanced himself from Steve. To lessen the the pain, he told himself. He knows he’s being stupid, he’s being dramatic and he’s being a diva. He’s got no solid reason to push Steve away. Fuck, Steve hasn’t even done anything to him. All he had to do was mention someone other than Bucky and Bucky got defensive. Bucky’s infuriated, frustrated with himself. He spends most nights trying to forget Steve and their friendship. Their could've-been relationship if Bucky stepped up. 

In a way, Bucky feels betrayed. He saw a real future with Steve. Steve tugged at his heartstrings and maybe it was Bucky’s fault for not realizing it sooner. Bucky comes to this realization while chugging a bottle of vodka. He is truly in love. Like the kind of in love you see in the movies

…

Bucky wakes up one morning, sun barely peeking out from his curtains. It’s cold in his apartment and his roommate is passed out on his bed. His name is Clint, and he’s a good guy. Bucky considers him a real friend out of all the others he’s got. Clint has a girlfriend. Her name’s Natasha. If it weren’t for the looming ghost of Steve hanging over Bucky, Bucky would’ve gone for Natasha before Clint did. But they make a good pair. They’re quiet and sassy and they work together in a fluid motion. She comes over often, bringing vodka that makes Bucky see stars. Actually, if he remembers correctly, she was here last night. He likes her and her red hair. 

Bucky gets out of bed, shaking off the warm sleep and pulling a shirt over his head. His head aches like hell and he knows from the acrid taste in his mouth that he must’ve been drinking last night. Unlike Clint, Bucky can never sleep in. It makes him feel lousy, even when he’s suffering from a head splitting hangover. He drinks some water first, eats some toast and takes an Advil to dull the pain in his head. He needs to move, grabbing his sunglasses to shield his sensitive eyes. He picks up his phone without checking it, shoves it in the back pocket of his jeans, grabs his school bag, and locks the door behind him. Pulling on a sweatshirt and a beanie, he steps out onto the street.

He breathes in the clean smell of morning and watches his breath freeze in front of him. He starts his walk to the cafe down the street. Something’s different in the air. He thought of something last night, he knows it. Things don’t carry over from last night unless they are important. Bucky’s got this feeling in the pit of his stomach that it’s something important. Damn you, vodka, and damn you Natasha for bringing it, Bucky swears mentally at the coffee he’s cradling. Sipping his coffee, he watches the people in the cafe. It’s early, but the shop is bustling with activity that makes Bucky’s head sore. 

At the table next to him sits a boy with blonde hair. Steve had blonde hair once, or maybe he does, now? Bucky thinks. Another sip of scalding coffee burns his throat.

A girl sits in the corner, her head bowed over a sketchbook. Her hands work quickly and with precision, her brow is furrowed. Steve used to look like that when he sketched, Bucky notes. Another sip.

Across the room sits two boys, speaking animatedly with each other. One throws his hands up in exasperation, the other smiles at him smugly. They end up laughing at whatever they’re talking about. Steve and I used to do that, and I’d make Steve laugh at how dumb I was when it came to art theory, Bucky recalls. 

Mid-sip, Bucky realizes what he’d concluded last night. Drunk as hell and in one of those emotional moods, he had confessed his whole situation to Natasha. He confessed his love for Steve. Something he had promised himself he’d never do. But, Natasha was good at prying stuff out of Bucky. Damn you, Natasha, Bucky swears as he shrugs his bag onto his shoulder and hastily exits the coffee shop.


	2. Bucky is Drunk-Emotional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is kind of short but i'm impatient. also, thanks to tanya again for being my rock. lov uuuu.

Natasha opens the door to Clint’s shared apartment with ease. She's had the keys to it for some time, even though they’d never officially given her any. She's got her ways. 

She's in charge of bringing the alcohol tonight. They plan on staying in and binge watching movies because according to Clint, Bucky’s in “one of those piss off moods. God, he's like a little kid, he’s moping around everywhere and it's making a mess.” 

When she sets down her bag of goodies in the kitchenette, she looks around for Clint and Bucky. Clint’s bedroom door is open and she can see him scrolling through movies on his laptop. 

“A greeting would be nice,” she scowls. Clint looks up, shocked. 

“Wait… how did you even… did you steal our keys?” he fumbles. 

“Clint, I've been coming in and out of your apartment for, like, a solid month. You just realized that I have a set of your keys?” she smirked. He looks like he's about to object, but then shrugs anyways. If anybody knows Natasha, they know not to question her. “It’s like questioning God,” Clint had once remarked.

After prying Bucky away from his homework (what a nerd), they wind up lying on Clint’s floor. Bucky has been gulping straight from a bottle of vodka Natasha had brought. He looked like he needed a drink so she'd pushed the bottle into his hands before he had any time to argue. Clint had put on an action movie. 

“It’s called Captain Canada, Natasha. And the plot line is perfect. Also, who doesn't want to see Chris Stevans dressed up in a uniform throwing a shield around?” Clint had scoffed at her earlier. She wasn't paying that much attention to the movie, but Clint was engrossed. Bucky looked like he was having a good time with the alcohol. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were half lidded. Natasha removed herself from under Clint’s arm and scooted over to Bucky. 

“What’s wrong, Bucky? You look like someone sucked the soul right out of you,” she joked. It was intended to draw out a laugh from Bucky, but she got something totally different. 

“Oh, Nat,” Bucky choked out, his head hung and his hair fell over his eyes. Who knew Bucky was so dramatic? Scratch that, who knew Bucky had any emotion at all? Natasha all of a sudden felt like she was in a romcom movie. She scooted closer.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s eating you up inside?” she suggested gently. He nodded slowly, making a move to stand up. Natasha prodded at Clint, whose eyes hadn’t left the screen.

“We’re going to Bucky’s room. We’re gonna talk. You’re gonna stay here,” she told him. He waved her off, eyes still glued to the movie. He did look up to give her a swift kiss on the cheek as she pushed herself up off the floor.

…

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on or are we going to play interrogator like we usually do?” Natasha asked. Bucky just looked at her with his big, round blue eyes. She hadn’t noticed it before, but his eyes were rimmed with red. Had he been crying?

“Nat, I screwed up, I-- I screwed up real bad,” he hiccuped.

“With who? What’s going on? How?” Natasha sobered up. Trouble with the feds? Bucky didn’t seem like the type. But…

“I mean, I messed up. I had a bestfriend named Steve. God, he meant the world to me. But when we parted for college, I just…” he made an explosion expression with his hands. Natasha relaxed. This was about friendship.

“I’m sure it can be fixed, Bucky. If you were best friends, there’s got to be a way to fix it,” she assured him.

“No, no, no. I--I just,” he stammered.

“What, Bucky. You what?”

“I’ve been such a jerk to him. He deserves the moon and the stars, goddammit. I was such a jerk to him. I ignored all of his calls. I ignored his texts. Christ, I haven’t even gone back home because I knew I would see him. I’ve just been trying to put it out of my mind…” he explodes.

“Jesus, Buck. Why were you ignoring him?” 

“It’s `cause one night, maybe the third or fourth month I’d been here, we were on the phone, and then he mentions some girl. He tells me about her, well actually he doesn’t even tell me a thing, but the way his voice changed when he started to talk about her..” he slurs. Natasha wonders if she should get Bucky drunk more often. He’s got some things on his shoulders that could crush a man if he wasn’t as stubborn as Bucky.

“It was like she was the stuff of- of gods! God, I was so jealous, I hung up on him and panicked. It’s what I do best, I guess. Just ignore the problem until it breaks you…” he scrubs his face with his hands.

“So you ignored him over a girl?” Natasha asks, warily.

“No, I mean yes, I mean… I don’t know. I was so used to it just being us and no one else. I was used to having Steve all to myself but when he mentioned a girl, mentioned her like he was going to love her, I didn’t know what to do. If I’d known I’d lose him so easily maybe I’d…” he trailed off, his eyes wide as he rambled.

“You’d what?”

“I would have told… him,”

“Told him what? Bucky, c’mon. I can’t read your mind,”

“That, I don’t know, I…” he mumbles. His last words are so faint, Natasha strains to hear them.

“What?”

“That I loved him! Fuckin’ hell! I loved him since we were fifteen and I learned that I didn’t have to love a girl! Since I learned that his eyes weren’t just blue but green in the middle! Since I realized that watching him sketch was better than getting drunk with the other kids in my class! Since forever! Since I was old enough to know what love was!” Bucky yells, he throws his hands up into the air, exasperated. He looks tired and beat. He takes another swig from the bottle he’s clutching, sighs, and shifts so he can put his head in Natasha’s lap.

“And I’ve been a goddamn coward about it. I ignore him just so I can ignore the fuckin' magnetic pull I feel in my fuckin' chest whenever I hear his voice. I ignore him so I don’t have to feel like I’m weighing him down. Imagine being tied down to a kid you knew when you were eighteen and now you’re twenty one and almost able to start a family. I can’t be a burden for him. He’s got places to go. I’m stuck in the past, I’m out of time with him,” he continues. Natasha cards her fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“Oh, James. Life is hard, we all know that. But this-- this you can fix. I know you can. If you love him and you’re acting like this, you gotta man up for once. Stop acting so mopey all the time, go home, answer his calls! You have to put effort in,” she soothes. He opens an eye and looks at her. 

“I've been trying, but I don't know if I can handle it,” he sighs. Natasha is done with this bullshit. 

“James. You are going to man up. You are going to stop acting like a goddamn idiot, and you are going to pull your head out of your ass. If you love him, you make a fuckin’ effort,” she snaps. She shoves him lightly and he grunts. He's listening, though

“I’ll try my best,” he answers finally. 

“You better,” she replies. He's dozing off so she slides out from underneath him. She grabs a blanket and drapes it over him. Leaving the room, she switches the light off. 

Back in Clint’s room, Clint has made it through three movies. When she enters, he looks up at her, quizzically. She lays down on the floor next to him, nose to nose. 

“I heard some yellin’. Thought maybe I'd intervene but figured you had it under control,” he says, studying her face. 

“Boys are such idiots sometimes,” is all she says. 

“You’re telling me,” Clint laughs lightly, pulling her into a swift kiss. 

“Now, tell me what I missed,” she asks, twisting around to get a better look. Clint beams widely.


	3. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky heads home for the first time in years. Becca isn't impressed. Clint hates Bucky's music. Life is going pretty good.

It’s been a couple months since Bucky’s drunken incident. He’s too much of a coward to talk to Steve, no matter how many glares Natasha sends him when he looks at his buzzing phone in his hand, Steve’s picture lighting up his phone. He’s such a coward. He’s just afraid of more rejection.

Bucky tries to forget even more. He puts himself out there. He flirts with boys, with girls, with whoever. He parties more. He brings back people. He kisses and fucks and kisses. But those blue eyes won’t get out of his damned head. Pretty soon, he starts to recognize a trend. Each boy or girl he brings back to the apartment begin to look the same. Thin, small frame with soft blonde hair and blue eyes. Freckles. Pointed noses and cherry lips. He’s fucked, that’s what he is.

…

Bucky’s mother pleads for Bucky to come home this Christmas. Usually, Bucky uses the excuse of a project or an unexpected job opening over break, but this time, he’s got nothing. It is his senior year, and he’s nearing graduation in, like, six months? So far away but so close at the same time. Bucky doesn’t want to go home alone so he invites Natasha and Clint to come home with him. They agree happily. No one really knows much about Bucky’s home because he doesn’t want to talk about it. It reminds him of Steve. Bucky shivers through all the layers of clothing he’s wearing. 

…

“Natasha, I swear to god, if I see your feet on my dashboard one more time, so help me, I will pull over and kick your ass out of this car,” Bucky swears loudly. They’ve been driving for hours. It was too late to book plane tickets and none of them wanted to spend the money. They were already broke as it was.

“We both know very well I could take your ass any time of day. I’m happy to fight,” she smirks. But Natasha removes her feet anyways, crossing her legs. Clint snores happily from the backseat. How Bucky got roped into driving, he doesn’t know. They’ve been on this highway for forever, but Natasha has a good taste in music. They chat quietly as the car engine drones in the background, a dull humming noise. The bright lights of cars contrast with the dark night sky and Bucky feels the dread of going home seeping into his veins.

It’s nearly 4 AM when they pull into a motel. They’ve got another day of driving left ahead of them. Bucky crashes as soon as he enters the janky hotel room, his face falling into the scratchy comforter and his body slumping into the dipped mattress. Natasha follows suit and Clint makes sure everything is locked and ready to go for tomorrow morning.

Fuck his inability to sleep in. Fuck driving. Fuck going home. Bucky wakes up at 7 AM on the dot like he usually does. His eyes burn and his neck aches from driving the night before. Clint takes one look at him and stifles a laugh.

“Hey, Buck, y’know what-” Clint starts to say. Bucky glares at him and hurls the keys at him.

“You’re driving,” Bucky states, final and firm. Clint chuckles as he picks up the keys from the ground. They stop and get coffee and breakfast before heading out on the road once again.

…

“Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. COFFEE. COFFEEEEE. Naaatttt, COFFEE!” Clint whines like a puppy. Bucky blinks his eyes open, he must’ve dozed off. The sun is way up in the sky now. Natasha twists to look at Bucky.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Natasha laughs. Bucky returns her smirk with a glare which makes her laugh even more. 

“COFFEE!” Clint yells. He pulls into a drive through and orders 6 drinks.

…

“Clint, you’re gonna have to pee after all this coffee,” Bucky warns, sipping at his own with precision. The road is bumpy but Clint doesn’t mind as he slurps clumsily on his own drink.

“Don’t care. Coffee,” Clint answers. 

Three hours later, Clint makes an emergency stop on the side of the road to pee. Bucky doesn’t say I told you so, but he laughs at Clint for the rest of the ride.

Surprisingly, Clint can stay awake and energetic forever. This time, they reach another motel at 7 AM and the sun is rising but it’s closer to home. Clint is still bouncing on his toes and his sarcastic humor doesn’t falter as they unlock the motel room and crash again.

…

Natasha drives and Bucky dj’s. Clint whines from the back again, saying Bucky’s music is too brooding and dark. Bucky smiles. He likes that. He forces them to listen to Hozier and Natasha almost falls asleep at the wheel. He switches it then. They settle on something that reminds them of their teenage years, all punk rock and loud with heavy bass. They know all the words and that they mimic the guitar when it solos. Bucky actually laughs a real laugh and it feels good. Maybe it was worth coming home. It beats getting blackout drunk and crying alone.

They reach Bucky’s home at 10 PM. They'd stopped to get dinner first, Bucky insisting they go to this certain American diner. It had been his favorite place to go to and he remembers bringing Steve here and watching him sip shakes and munch on fries and— oh god he's not doing this again. 

They eat ravenously. By the time they're done, their bellies are full and Clint is complaining about how much food he ate. Bucky buys a pie for his mother, knowing that he can't go home without a welcoming gift. 

Bucky parks the car right outside the house. It's a tall, Victorian style house that is nestled close to its neighbors. There aren't any side yards, but there is a tiny backyard, if Bucky remembers correctly. The red brick is reminiscent of Bucky’s childhood. The color is soothing to look at even when it's so dark that he can barely muster the maroon color. The windows are lit but only just so. He can see the faint shadow of a figure waiting near the window. Judging by the profile, Bucky can tell it's Becca, his younger sister, who's 18 now. She'll be off to college once he's done. Weird. Natasha and Clint help carry the luggage up the front steps. They quickly clean the car of garbage and then wait on the front step. 

“Uh, just to warn you, my family is a little bit…” Bucky starts. Natasha quirks an eyebrow. 

“Overbearing? Loud? Bossy? Messy? I've seen it all, James. I'm sure it won't be bad,” she smirks. Clint nods his head, agreeing with her. Damn, Bucky doesn't even know anything about Natasha and Clint’s personal life. He should probably fix that. Bucky takes a deep breath and presses the doorbell. The door swings open quickly because, of course, Becca has been waiting. She smiles politely, welcoming them in. She takes the pie from Bucky’s hands and directs Natasha to the spare bedroom for the bags. Clint stays back with Bucky. When Becca returns to the kitchen, Natasha has settled in and slides into the couch where both Clint and Bucky wait. Becca resumes her spot next to the window, her legs curl up beneath her and she crosses her arms. She looks at Bucky with steely blue eyes. It's sort of freaky how similar they are, not just in looks

“Aw, c’mon, Becks. I just got here. Why are you all sour?” Bucky questions, his tone exasperated. He's really tired. 

“Stop being a goddamn coward and pull your head outta your ass. Fix. This,” she snaps at Bucky, pointing out the window, indicating Steve. Bucky looks down at the floor, ashamed that even his sister knows he screwed up. 

“Ooh, I like your family already, Bucky,” Natasha croons. She smiles widely and Becca smiles back. Ugh. This is going to be hell. 

They talk some more, catch up on things missed. Becca got into college on the west coast, meaning she'll be leaving for a long time. Bucky feels weird about it. She's still a kid. There's no way she can almost be in college. 

It’s been so long since they've last met. Bucky remembers vaguely the image of Becca, moody and obsessed with boy bands. He remembers being constantly annoyed with her. But Becca’s more relaxed now. She's more poised and, if Bucky can see right in the dim light, she's got a nose piercing. 

“Got it last summer. If you came home, you'd know,” she said, tapping at her nose. She'd caught Bucky staring. 

“Hey, you knew I had to take up that internship. I needed the money and they wouldn't let me leave,” Bucky explains. Becca flips him off, but there's no heat behind it. Bucky smiles. God, he really did miss her and he does kind of miss home. The smell of roses from his mother, the worn down wooden floors, the mismatched furniture, the sloped ceiling, the various works of art on the walls… it made him choke up a bit. 

They settle in for the night. Clint and Natasha share the lower guest bedroom and Bucky heads up the stairs to the bedroom he hasn't seen in 4 years. 

Opening the door, Bucky is faced with a shitload of nostalgia. The same red comforter is laid out on his bed and his ceiling is still covered in his posters. It's still covered in Steve's artwork. Bucky sighs. He strips and pulls on his pajamas. He drops onto his bed, his weight making it creak from years of dismissal. He breathes in the familiar scent of home in his pillow, and covers his head with the comforter so he doesn't have to face Steve's artwork looking at him.


	4. I've Missed You (I Know)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and i am bored.

Bucky wakes up to an unfamiliar weight on his chest. He's wheezing for breath. Pulling back the covers, he sees his dog smiling lazily back. 

“Riley!” he exclaims, reaching out to pet the dog’s soft golden fur. He's a Labrador mix with a dopey face and a drooping mouth. Bucky almost forgot about his dog. 

…

Riley is his dog, actually. Junior year of high school, Bucky had been indescribably lonely when Steve left for an art camp over the summer. Bucky was walking past the retail stores as usual and noticed that their local pet shop was holding an adoption day. He wandered in with $50 in hand. He came out with a handful of soft, blond puppy hair and love. 

It was a long 3 months getting the puppy situated. After lots of disinfectant and yelling, Riley became one of Bucky’s best companions. Steve came home, took one look at the dog and fell in love with him. It was cute. Lots of love. Riley was good at capturing all the attention in the room. 

…

Bucky rolled out of bed, Riley jumping out of bed to follow. The soft pitter-patter of Riley’s feet echoed behind him as Bucky wandered through the small house. 

Bucky approached the wooden door he knew so well; the golden knob lacked its usual luster. It was open slightly and he could hear his mom humming lightly. Taking a deep breath, Bucky pushed the door open quietly and he saw his mom. 

She looked older. There were more white hairs mixed with the black and her eyes were worn down. When she smiled, her eyes crinkled the way old people’s do. God, she's aged and so has Bucky. He smiled fondly as he wrapped his arms around her small frame. 

“I'm home, Ma,” he breathed. She stopped sorting through the jewelry box and reached up to cup his face. Her soft hands were cold. 

“I know, Buck. You couldn't have come home any sooner?” she asked. Bucky knew she didn't mean this trip. He'd been neglecting his family for so many years. He felt the guilt weighing on his shoulders. 

“Sorry, Ma. I really am. I should have,” he agreed, “It's good to be home, it really is.”

He means it. 

…

By the time Bucky makes it down the stairs, he can hear Becca talking with Natasha. By the tone of their voices, they must be talking about something serious. Silently, he makes it down the last few steps and slides onto a seat at the table. Becca looks at him, eyes wide and mouth twisted into a scowl. 

“God, Buck, I hate it when you do that. I never know if you're there or not,” she says. He smiles sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders. He's good at being silent. It's his thing. Natasha scoffs at him and turns back to the eggs she was cooking. Clint wanders in wearing a purple shirt and flannel pants with black and white targets on them. Bucky raises an eyebrow and Clint flips him off. Clint is an animal. He wraps an arm around Nat’s waist, kissing her good morning on the cheek while reaching for the coffee pot with his free hand. Natasha is still in a deep conversation with Becca, their voices hushed so Bucky can only make out a few words. Clint starts the coffee machine, hopping up on the counter next to the girls. The kitchen was big enough to accommodate them all, even if it was a snug fit. 

“Be careful, Clint,” Becca chides, “Those counters are old. Like, 1940’s old.”

…

Riley is whining to go outside. His ears droop down and he's looking at Bucky with those soft killer eyes. Bucky sighs.

“Riley, you know it's snowing outside, you doofus,” Bucky mutters. He pulls on his coat anyways, slips on some snow boots and calls to Becca that he's going outside to walk Riley. All three friends shout a goodbye. 

…

The cold nips at Bucky’s nose, making him sniffle. He watches his breath again, and it all feels so familiar. 

They're rounding the corner when Riley starts pulling at his leash. Cursing silently, Bucky tugs a bit at Riley’s leash before looking up. It takes Bucky a moment to realize where they are. The beige shades of the house are drawn but the car and freshly made footprints indicate that Steve is home. His mother rarely goes out of the house. She works from home, Bucky remembers. Bucky remembers too much, apparently.

“Come along, Riley,” he calls, and Riley bounds back to him. He makes his way back down the street, purpose in his stride. Steve was home. Steve was here. Through his thick ski jacket, the ache Bucky knows so well pulls at his heart.


	5. Let's Get Together and Feel Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finds more friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a piece of cheese (@ chapter title). also, the chapter starts with a flashback sooo

It's late, too late for Bucky, but Steve pulls him out of bed. He's no good at resisting Steve’s eyes when he wants something. They shine in the night light, begging Bucky to come with him. 

It's freezing on Steve’s roof but he doesn't mind. Steve brought blankets and Bucky is already wearing a sweatshirt. They sit, side to side, on the roof. Bucky wraps his arms almost subconsciously around Steve's shivering body. 

“I don't get why you always want to come out here at night,” Bucky whispers. It's starting to snow lightly and it invasive to talk any louder. 

“I don't know why you agree to it every time,” Steve smirks back. 

“I don't want to wake up one morning to find you frozen to death up here. Someone’s gotta look out for your scrawny ass,” Bucky parries back, his smile soft. Steve shoves him a little, but with no effect. Bucky is almost twice his size and double the weight. Times like this made Bucky feel warm inside, even if it was 10 degrees outside and Steve’s lips were turning blue.

…

Bucky finds out that a lot of his college friends live around Brooklyn. Wanda Maximoff, a quirky girl whose twin brother attends the same school Steve goes to, lives just 30 minutes away from Bucky’s house. She gets along with Bucky well, but she’s closest to Clint. He sees her one night while taking Becca, Nat, and Clint to a trendy ramen place that had opened up downtown. They greet each other, make polite conversation, and schedule a time for all of them to hang out. They exchange numbers and make a group chat, which turns out to be a very bad idea. Who knew that Natasha was the one that would share all the memes?

Bucky sees another friend while getting groceries for his mom. Sharon from his statistics class runs into him in the produce aisle. She’s a nice girl and is way smarter than Bucky could ever be. He’s got mad respect for her. They swap numbers and wish each other happy holidays.

Text from Bucky:

Do you guys know Sharon? She’s in my statistics class.

Text from Natasha:

Yeah. She’s the only person who can solve algorithms faster than I can… meh.

Text from Wanda:

 

Yeah she’s dope.

Text from Clint:

Someone smarter than Nat? I gotta meet her.

Text from Bucky:

Should I add her in the group chat?

Text from Natasha:

Start another one and then add her.

Text from Bucky:

Fineee :/

Text from Becca:

 

Who?

…

They settle on having a light get together the weekend Bucky’s mom flies out to meet an old friend of hers in Florida. Bucky bumps into Scott Lang while dropping off his mom at the airport.

“Hey, Bucky!” Scott smiles widely. Scott is kind of a wild guy… he was little too extravagant for Bucky’s tastes when they were in high school together but he’s got a hilarious sense of humor.

“Hey, Scott,” Bucky answers. They shake hands awkwardly. Chatting while Bucky helps his mom with her luggage, Bucky finds out that Scott home from college in California for a couple weeks. He’s doing well; he’s majoring in business and he’s got a great position secured at a company when he graduates this year. They joke around and laugh and it makes Bucky miss home even more. He waves goodbye to his mom and turns back to Scott.

“Got any plans this weekend?” he asks.

“No, not really. I mean, my folks are expecting me to come home and have a proper Christmas with the family like every year. But besides the gift wrapping and Christmas lectures about being more mature… no, I got nothing going on. Why?” Scott answers. Bucky smiles and asks for his phone number. He knows Clint will love him for this.

…

It’s snowing profusely when all seven of them huddle around Bucky’s kitchen table at dinner. Natasha and Wanda insisted on making dinner. Everyone vetoed Clint’s idea of ordering takeout Chinese food for dinner. So, the table was set and everyone was wearing casual clothes. Wanda removed the pot lid to reveal…

“It’s called Paprikash. My mom made it for us when we were little,” Wanda says, knowing everybody’s question. Whatever it was, it made Bucky’s stomach growl. They ate, drank, and talked. 

As Bucky was helping Clint rinse off the dishes, Bucky felt a feeling in his heart. It felt good. It felt like whatever emptiness was inside of him was slowly being filled up. His friends, actual friends, were having a good time. He eyed Natasha, Wanda, and Sharon laughing hysterically over one of Nat’s jokes as he dunked a plate into the sudsy water. Bucky smiled fondly at his friends. 

…

Two weeks had gone by and everything had already began to change. Bucky still woke up at 7AM every morning and walked Riley around the block. He’d not so subtly walk by Steve’s house. Two more cars were parked in the driveway. Upstairs in Steve’s bedroom, a light was on. Bucky wondered how many friends Steve had now, and what had happened to the girl Steve had told him about. Bucky wanted to forget.

…

Bucky was bound to meet Steve at some point. It was just... He didn’t expect it to be here.

...

Bucky’s mom had shooed Bucky out of the house after he had started nibbling on the food his mother was preparing for Christmas eve. Bucky nagged Clint into accompanying him to the market. His mom needed plums for a pie she was making. They left the house, leaving the women to their cooking. Bucky would’ve burned the whole kitchen down if he tried to help, and Clint was only skilled in making coffee.


End file.
